The Artist is In
by BaiLydia
Summary: All Bella Swan wants is to be an artist. All Edward Cullen wants is Bella Swan. But it was never his choice anyway.
1. Chapter 1

**March 14, 2005 — New York City**

The people seemed to be moving faster than the town car I was sitting in, which was consistently stopped in traffic. This is why I preferred to walk — I seemed to get to places so much faster. I scanned the sidewalks and buildings, taking in the details with curiosity. In New York, things changed every day and what I saw today would be completely different tomorrow. That was the beauty of a big city.

The town car pulled up to the front of the Museum of Modern Art and I let out a sigh, my eyes falling closed. I could feel my nerves deep in the pit of my stomach, but truthfully, I was neither excited or frightened about the exhibition. I was more nervous that no one would come to MoMA and participate in my performance, a worry that always emerged when I came up with a new show. My body jolted forward suddenly when the driver open my door and I glanced up to meet his gaze before grasping the hand he offered me to pull me out of the car. After my feet were on the sidewalk, I adjusted the fabric of my dress to ensure that I wasn't stepping on it. I pushed my hair over one shoulder so that it was away from my face and glanced around the busy street, taking in the people entering MoMA. A man bumped into my shoulder before giving me a quick once over and then scurrying on his way. Typical New York, I thought. I gathered my couture gown and spared a glance at the driver who still remained beside the door.

"Thank you," I said, realizing absentmindedly that he would be perhaps one of the last people I spoke to before beginning my self-imposed silence during my exhibition. It was the opening night and I arrived an hour before the set time so that I could prepare mentally for the task ahead of me. Although I had my dress gathered in my hands, I didn't move from my spot, watching Aro waiting for me from inside the museum. He was dressed in a tux, his shoulder length black hair pushed back from his face, and his body angled towards a woman standing in front of him. A smile curved onto my lips as I watched him flirt with the woman and a gut feeling told me that she was probably a donor of some sort. Little did she know that he was in a committed relationship with his boyfriend Cauis, who was undeniably the center of his universe.

After a few moments of watching, I walked towards the front door and I could tell that my movements caught Aro's attention. His face lit up when he made eye contact with me through the door and he abandoned the woman he was speaking to without a second glance. He opened the door for me just before I could reach it and ushered me in. "Isabella! My dear, it has been too long," he exclaimed before tossing his arms around my waist.

I laughed as I wrapped my arms around his neck, embracing him tightly. "It's good to see you too, Aro."

He released me from our embrace before glancing around the entrance. The woman he had been speaking to before was eying our exchange with obvious envy. Oh honey, I thought, if only you knew how little he was actually interested in me. I was nearly thirty years his senior, not to mention a woman. I glanced back towards Aro when I felt his gaze perusing my body and I cocked an eyebrow at his appraisal. "You look gorgeous," he said, motioning his hand toward my gown. I smirked and raised my eyebrow higher at the silent 'but' that hung in the air. Noticing the dare in my eyes, he continued, "Of course, I would look better in it, but not everyone can pull of red dresses like I can."

"Only you would say something like that and get away with it," I laughed, shaking my head slightly at his wide grin. "Only you."

As if to test his new found boundaries, he said, "Well, even if I could pull of that look better, I must say you are the best dressed old lady I know."

"Excuse me," I replied with a look of mock offense. "I am not old. You are just a baby." I reached out a pinched his cheek.

"Sure, sure, and that isn't a gray hair I see right there."

"Don't even go there!"

"I'm sorry," he replied gently before smirking once more. "I'm just amazed that you don't look a day over thirty despite your age."

"Yeah, sure," I huffed. "Lucky for you, this doesn't lessen my love for you."

"I love you too, old lady."

Snorting, I shake my head. "Are you sure you want to be with Cauis? I could use a charmer like you to keep me grounded."

He laughed, tossing his head back dramatically as if that was the funniest thing he had ever heard. "Honey, you know I don't swing that way," he said, bumping his hip with mine. "But if you ever need an ego check, I'm a phone call away."

"What a comforting thought."

With a brilliant smile, he took my arm and led me through the masses towards where my exhibition would be. I glanced around to see if I recognized anyone standing by the ticketing desk but all of them were strangers. For some reason, that pleased me. I would rather have a large group of strangers at my show than a small group of friends. "Let's go check out the space for your exhibition, I am hoping that it meets your approval since I didn't have a ton of time to talk to you about it."

"I'm sure if you picked it, I will be happy with it."

Placing a hand over his heart, he let out a laugh. "You know just what to say to make a guy blush. But we better get moving before I do something we might regret since I'm pretty sure my bosses will not approve of any salacious behavior."

I laughed. "And here I thought you liked me."

_—_—_—_

The atrium had been transformed into the space I had imagined. The paintings that typically decorated the walls were gone, leaving the walls plain. The entire room was a stark white color that could easily be described as sterile. The vast room was basically empty of all furniture outside of the table and two chairs I had requested. There were chains provided by the museum to keep my show separated from the general public unless they took the seat across from me. Walking through the only gap between the chains, I moved towards the chairs and skimmed my hands along the backs of the chairs. The wood felt smooth and cool beneath my fingers, causing my lips to twitch into a smile. Perfect — everything was absolutely perfect. I glanced up to see that Aro remained near the entrance to the atrium, watching me get into my element. I was grateful. After a few moments of silence, I finally spoke the one word that was repeatedly on my mind, "Perfect."

"Perfect!" he responded with an excited expression. "The exhibition opens in an hour. What would you like to do?"

I smirked. "Go to the bathroom."

He shook his head and let out a loud laugh, which seemed to echo throughout the room. "Of course, of course." With an exaggerated bow, he offered me his arm and escorted me from the atrium to show me where the restrooms were. "Also, Marcus wanted me to make sure you are okay with the general public having access to your exhibition on the opening night. Most artists prefer to keep the public separated from their work on the first night. He said that you both had spoken about it, but he asked that I ensure this is still what you want."

"Of course it is," I said indignantly. "If I refused to give the public access to my exhibition from the moment it opened, how do I know that anyone will want to come during the rest of its duration here?" My eyebrows were raised in challenge, knowing that Aro was unaware of the fragile balance I had to maintain because I was a dubious type of artist.

His eyebrows furrowed slightly. "You are a famous artist. Why shouldn't they come?"

I laughed, half out of frustration. "All of my exhibitions are controversial and not a certain success, despite the fact that I am a famous artist. I am worried that most people will be intimidated or even disturbed by what we are doing here; so, my first goal is to dissuade any fears from the moment we begin… And keeping the public from my exhibition is not the best way to do that."

His eyes widened slightly before he nodded in understanding. As he guided me through MoMA, I watched as his eyes flickered from art piece to art piece and I knew right away that he was evaluating whether anything was out of place. He had an eye for noticing the most minute details such as if anyone had touched the glass surrounding the art. He once told me that you could never trust anyone when it comes to art because after all, it was an employee that stole the _Mona Lisa_. I couldn't argue with that.

"Is Cauis coming to the opening tonight?" I asked curiously.

"Yes," he replied with a soft smile, the sort of smile that he only ever had when his boyfriend was mention. True love, such a costly affair. "He wouldn't miss your show for anything. Sometimes, I'm pretty sure he likes you better than me." He gave me a wink before bumping his hip against mine. Just a few steps away from where I stood was a sign that stated the bathroom was just down the narrow hallway. "Here is the bathroom, m'lady. Do you need any further assistance?"

"No, I'll meet you in the atrium when I'm finished. I doubt I will get lost." I released his arm and gave him a grateful smile before walking into the women's bathroom. A relieved sigh escaped me when I heard the door closed behind me and although I was grateful that Aro had been assigned to my exhibition, I knew that I wouldn't be able to maintain a clear head with his commentary. Resting my back against the door, I could feel the cool wood through the fabric of the red dress and I relaxed into it like I would a lover's embrace.

A lover's embrace, I scoffed internally. I hadn't experienced one of those in quite some time.

I glanced towards the bathroom stalls to make sure no one else was inside and would witness my private moment. It would be the last one I would have for a span of some hours and I anticipated how draining this would be for me. I was going to be completely vulnerable as the audience and I experienced a direct exchange of emotions in their rawest form. I couldn't wait for it to begin, and yet I wanted to prolong my private moment as long as possible.

I turned towards the bathroom mirror and braced myself against the edge of the counter, keeping a certain amount of distance from the water droplets that were sprinkled the surface. My eyes stared into my reflection with intense scrutiny, noting the lines age had created and the gray that was beginning to show intermittently through my hair. At one point, I would have admitted that I was beautiful by the world's standards but now, I could see the influence age had on my features.

I was no longer twenty — I was fifty-five with two failed marriages under my belt and no children; despite all of that, I did have a successful art career that I couldn't help being proud of. I'd given up many things for this art career and sometimes I wonder if my regrets out weigh the benefits of my success. In truth, I would probably have more regrets if I didn't become successful. I rarely allowed myself the opportunity to fixate on my regrets because I knew that my emotions could damage my art in diverse ways and this had become the one thing that mattered to me. In the back of my mind, I heard the soft notes of a piano playing a familiar song I hadn't thought about in years and heard in even longer.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed beyond the dangerous thoughts that washed over my mind and tried to center myself once more. All of these thoughts were regrets that I had no power to change. I hadn't noticed the slight trembling in my hands until I reached to turn on the faucet. A quick glance in the mirror told me that I was visibly shaken. My skin was white and my eyes had a half-crazed look in them. I steadied myself enough to turn on the water. I gathered a pool of water into my palms before I looked at myself one last time in the mirror and splashed the cool water on my skin. Pressing my wet hands against my face, I let out a shaky breath.

Focus. Clear your mind.

When my breathing had finally evened out and my skin had regained some of its color, I shut off the faucet that I had accidentally left running and grabbed a paper towel to dry my face off. As I scrubbed away any traces of my anxiety, I was grateful that I had chosen not to wear makeup for this exhibition. Deep inside, I knew that there was no one here to impress and I hoped my audience would appreciate seeing my face clear of any makeup. No facades, just the raw truth.

After I determined that I looked presentable once more, I opened the bathroom door and began to retrace my steps back towards the atrium. I didn't get far though before I felt a gentle tug on the back of my dress from what felt like a small child. Strange, I thought before turning around to see a little girl no more than five standing behind me. She seemed to be waiting for my attention. Her red hair was pulled into pigtails and her overalls covered a long sleeved green shirt. "Hello," I said, bending my knees until I was eye level with her. I ignored the protest my joints gave as I looked into her eyes, determined not to portray my pain.

"Hi I'm Maggie," she said in her high pitched, excited voice. "I like your dress."

It was strange to think that I was old enough to be her grandmother. "Thank you, Maggie. My name is Bella. I like your overalls. Do you think we should trade?" I teased.

She shook her head adamantly. "No, my clothes are too small for you and your dress is too big for me!" She held out her arms as wide as they could go to demonstrate the difference in our sizes.

"I guess you're right but I bet your clothes are more comfortable than mine."

"Maybe," she conceded, "but why are you dressed up?" Her wide blue eyes blinked at me and her open expression displayed curiosity. One thing that caught my attention right away was the fact that she didn't look around for a parent. It worried me. Where were her parents?

"I'm an artist and my show starts today. Shouldn't I be dressed up?"

"Yes," she responded solemnly. "When momma takes me to church, she makes me wear itchy dresses."

I laughed. "Lucky for me, this dress isn't itchy. Where is your momma?" I glanced around quickly to see if there was anyone nearby — there wasn't.

She shrugged. "She's a picture taker at a new show here."

Ah, a photographer. "Does she know where you are?"

"No, I told her I got to go potty but she was busy."

Biting my lower lip, I debated silently on the best plan of action. Should I go get her mother or should I escort her to the bathroom? I knew I wouldn't be much help to her if she needed any assistance inside of the stall because of my dress. I knew right away that it didn't matter one way or another if she had an accident. "Do you still have to go potty?"

She nodded eagerly. "That's why I got you. Momma was too busy. Can you come with me?"

I knew that she made it sound a lot easier than it actually would be but I certainly couldn't let Maggie wander alone through the museum without an adult. In that moment, I was grateful that I had asked the designed to include pockets on the dress and I reached into one of the pockets to grab my cell phone. I quickly sent Aro a text about my current situation and why I wasn't back at the atrium already. Standing up, I offered her my hand. "Let's go to the bathroom. By the way, do you know your momma's name?"

She thought about it for a moment before responding, "Bree Tanner." With that, she took my hand and practically dragged me into the bathroom behind her. I waited outside of the stall as she got situated and sent Aro another text with the name of her mother. It took a couple of minutes before the bathroom door burst open and a woman I didn't recognize rushed in.

"Maggie?" she cried out. "Are you in here, baby?"

"Yes, momma," was the response that Maggie gave from the other side of the stall. "I'm going potty."

Letting out a relieved sigh, the woman — Bree, I assumed — turned towards where I was standing and opened her mouth to say something, but stopped dead when she noticed it wasn't just a random stranger. "Ms. Swan," she gasped, her expression shifting from relieved to horrified. "I am so sorry! I didn't realize she had wandered away until I turned around to take her to the bathroom. I am so sorry. I don't know how to —."

"No thanks necessary and you certainly don't own me an explanation," I replied with a wave of my hand. "Your daughter is a wonderful little girl. However, I think I should be going now that you're here." I walked passed Bree Tanner before pausing at the door, a smile flitting across my lips. "I'll see you later, Maggie."

I left right away, knowing that Maggie would probably be in a lot of trouble now that the relief has worn off. I didn't really want to listen to it though. I liked the little girl too much to be okay with her getting reprimanded for needing to go to the bathroom. Sucking in a deep breath, I shook my head in an attempt to escape these thoughts.

Focus, I reminded myself. Clear your mind.

_—_—_—_

In my opinion, the first person to interact with me is the most daring. It took a lot of guts to face a stranger, especially an artist, with very little idea of what was expect of you. I always admired them and this time was no different. I could sense the woman's anxiety before she sat down and I hadn't even opened my eyes yet. The uncomfortable sigh she expelled allowed me to know she was a woman. I blinked my eyes briefly, scanning her appearance before returning my eyes to her. I could hear the clicking of cameras but I chose not to respond. Her blond hair fell around her face in waves and her eyes met mine nervously. I tried to encourage her with my eyes while refraining from responding physically. I could tell that my lack of outward response unnerved her even more. Hmm, perhaps she wasn't the best person to start with.

Slowly she began to relax and I was tempted to smile when she finally met my gaze confidently. Good, I thought. I didn't want the first person to participate in this to view it as a negative experience. I never wanted that. I viewed any exchange of emotion should never be regarded as negative. Eventually her turn was over and I closed my eyes briefly while the next person moved forward. Each time I opened my eyes and engaged in a moment of silence with the audience. I was pleasantly surprised that each person had a different emotional response to what I was doing.

One of the first people to sit across me was an elderly woman, who met my eyes passively as though she had spent her whole life dealing with stares. It was unnerving. She didn't shift under my unwavering gaze like some people did and I suppose I could attribute that to her age. I imagine that she was once quite the looker in her time and so she was used to people staring at her just as much as she was probably used to staring back in return.

A little while later, a man in his late twenties took up the chair and he seemed determined to glare at me throughout the entire time he had across from me. While it was intimidating, I could see that there was something hidden underneath his angry exterior and his eyes were clear of any emotion. Perhaps he viewed this exhibition as a test of sorts and was trying to get me to break character. I wasn't certain; yet, on the other hand, he seemed just as focused on not breaking his character even though his eyes weren't in it. In some ways, I hoped he would come back later on and I could have more time to analyze why he was being so cryptic. Another part of me hoped he wouldn't come back because I was certain I would break character for him. When he stood up, I felt a twinge of relief at no longer having to meet his gaze. My eyes quickly closed again, providing a brief sense of peace.

My body is fatigued. My eyes hurt, my back aches, and I can feel the rising urge to go to the bathroom. I let my eyes fall towards the table, noting that it was longer than the typical two person table. I knew that the design was to help the audience and myself maintain a comfortable amount of distance. It was already such a vulnerable position to be in and no one wanted to endanger the fragile balance created within the space. The next person was taking longer than usual to join me so I allowed my eyes to close again because I could feel the burning sensation at the back of my eyes as they threatened to water. When I heard someone take the seat across from me, I took a deep breath in and then opened my eyes once more. Cauis. If I could have smiled, I would have. His blond hair was styled in a purposeful disarray and he looked like he wanted to maintain a passive expression. Good luck, I thought. He had less practice than I did.

I wished that I could speak to him as I would have if I had run into him outside of the exhibition but I couldn't. In fact, I wouldn't. I watched with morbid curiosity as his facade began to crack under my stare and he eventually began to smile. I would've matched his smile in a heartbeat, feeling triumphant that I had made him drop the facade he was trying to wear, but once again I reined in the emotions I felt surging towards the surface.

Focus. Clear your mind.

I took a deep breath and I knew he could tell that my resolve was coming dangerous close to falling apart, so I wasn't surprised when he stood and returned to where the public was observing my performance. I watched silently as one of my good friends walked away and I could feel my lips twitch a little. No smiling, I reminded myself. My eyes fell closed and I centered myself once more. I repeated to myself the same thing I had said since I decided to attempt this:

I am Isabella Swan, a performance artist who is known for the ability to control emotions and explore the limits of the body and the mind. This wasn't the most difficult exhibition I had done; no, I saved that for one of my earliest exhibitions where I felt I had something to prove. I had laid out a total of seventy-two items on a table ranging from harmless to deadly during the exhibition and then assigned myself the task of remaining completely passive while the audience could essentially have their way with me. I held in every whimper when the audience cut me, refrained from every flinch when they handled the loaded gun, and fought to hide my fear because I knew that they would feed off it. For six hours, I forced myself to remain passive as the audience manipulated me to their pleasure, and when it was finished, my clothing had been stripped away and my body bore the wounds of an assaulted woman. Marks of the audience's aggression covered my body as blood trickled from the cuts they had made. The relief I felt was palpable and I had discovered to a degree the nature of humanity and how the world views the female body.

Back then, there were no barriers then like there are now, but it was nevertheless taxing on my body. Back then, I wasn't as experienced, cautious, and apprehensive as I was now. I had learned never trust anyone blindly from my marriages to Jacob Black and Riley Biers. They were both artists with larger-than-life egos and competitive personalities. I learned quickly that Riley couldn't handle my success like I had hoped, which led to our divorce. With Jacob, it took a bit longer to realize that he was subtly trying to change me into a trophy wife. I was old-fashioned when it came to relationships and I longed for the fairytale relationship where the man would accept me for who I am and love me for my drive. Without meaning to, green eyes flashed to mind, but I quickly blinked the image away and focused on the task at hand. I tried to ignore that my hands had begun to tremble again.

Focus. Clear your mind.

This time when I opened my eyes, I met the gaze of a woman who had taken the seat across from me. Her curly brown hair was swept over one shoulder and her eyes met mine with a gentleness no one else had displayed. I could sense that there was something different about her. She didn't wear a facade like Cauis, she wasn't angry like the other man, and she wasn't nervous either. The difference became obvious when I noticed her eyes were filled with tears. I felt a pang of guilt at my inability to respond properly to this emotional response, yet I felt that words would have ruined this very personal moment. She needed my silence. Perhaps she found something in my eyes that gave her the opportunity to release pent-up emotions. Maybe she had experienced something traumatic just prior to entering the exhibition. I hoped that it was because she felt some sort of connection to me that most of the audience attempted to distance themselves from. That was, of course, the purpose of this performance — to see if just the simple act of staring and silence could create a bond between the audience and the performer.

I watched as a single tear streaked down her face and I knew that she was almost finished with sitting across from me. Whatever she needed expressed had been and she could now move on. She stood, gave me a grateful smile, and rejoined the rest of the audience that stood on the outskirts of the room. A wave of peace covered me before I closed my eyes and I was tempted to sigh. There was another brief span of time between people and I began to wonder how long I had been sitting there without moving. During this private moment, my mind began blazing with unbidden thoughts and ideas as though I had just woken up from a long nap. However, the aching in my body told a different story. I could already feel where my body had stiffened and my eyes felt heavier and heavier with each passing moment.

At least I had decided to sit through this exhibition instead of stand, I concede. When I heard someone take the seat across from me, I began to repeat my mantra: focus. Clear your mind.

My eyes opened once more, expecting to meet another nervous gaze or at least something other than what I actually saw. My gaze was held captive by two very green eyes that sat across from me. Unavoidable tears filled my eyes as I looked at a man I hadn't seen in thirty years. It took everything in me not to gasp and break my passive pose, even though my tears gave away how emotional I actually was. He had grown more mature since I had last seen him, laugh lines were beginning to show and his hair was showing more gray than mine did. His eyes, although they still held the twinkle of mischief from our youth, softened and his expression changed from nervous to hopeful. I noticed that his eyes were appraising me just as mine had him and I could tell both of us were checking to see if the outward changes had really changed anything between us. I could still feel the electric charge between the two of us. No, not everything had changed.

His eyes filled with tears and I felt my lips curve into a smile, which was quickly matched with one of his own. He let out a deep breath and shook his head as if he couldn't believe he was here, sitting across from me after all of this time. My tears began to fall as he continued to look at me as though no time had passed since we were last together. I let out a shuddering sigh before I broke character entirely and reached across the table towards him. He chuckled slightly at my change in demeanor before grasping my hands in his own, the electric charge becoming more and more evident.

"It has been so long," he whispered softly. "You haven't changed one bit. You are still as beautiful as you were the day I met you."

I let out a soft sigh.

"I have missed you, Bella. I hope you know that." He gave my hands a squeeze, both of us ignoring the sound of cheering around us. He kept his eyes on mine. My eyes flickered away from his briefly to make eye contact with the only two men who knew about him. Cauis and Aro looked positively giddy at this new development, their hands clasped tightly as though they were watching the conclusion of the greatest romance movie ever created. If only real life was that easy. I knew they had something to do with this and I was determined to find out why they thought meddling in my life was a genius idea. Artists, I sighed internally, always looking for the chance to create the perfect picture.

"Edward," I breathed and watched as he gave me another breathtaking smile. I knew that this one word was all he wanted to hear as he let out a shaky breath. Age had not changed his effect on me. However, when I spoke, I realized how many rules I had broken the moment I saw him. I had to focus on the exhibition and not the man who I knew was the great love of my life and the greatest sacrifice I had ever made. I had hurt us both beyond imagining and his presence was baffling. I never thought I would see him again. I slowly pulled my hands away from him, allowing them to return to my lap. I gave him a soft look that expressed my emotions when I could not express them vocally while also showing him that I needed to distance myself once more from him. I watched him stand without breaking eye contact and then turned to return to the audience. With one last shuddering breath, I let my eyes close one last time.

I often thought of our relationship. The way I broke his heart was still raw for me. Some of my friends told me that it would get easier with age and that one day it would be hard to remember what or rather who ended our relationship. But for me, at least, the break up with just as raw as it had been the day I had done it. Time had not healed the wounds for me. Even though, back then, he was just Edward Cullen and I was just Bella Swan. I was an aspiring artist, following the new performing art movement, and he was a new and upcoming author. Back then, things were simple until they weren't anymore.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **This story is based on something that actually occurred in 2010. Bella is loosely based on the famous artist Marina Abramovic, who is known as the grandmother of performance art. The dangerous exhibition Bella depicts is one that Marina actually did during the 1970s. She has stated about the experience: "What I learned was that… if you leave it up to the audience, they can kill you… I felt really violated: they cut up my clothes, stuck rose thorns in my stomach, one person aimed the gun at my head, and another took it away. It created an aggressive atmosphere. After exactly six hours, as planned, I stood up and started walking toward the audience. Everyone ran away to escape an actual confrontation." This exhibition is called "Rhythm 0" and you can actually look at the images of her being manipulated by the audience. It is disturbing to say the least.**

 **During the opening of her exhibition "The Author is Present", Marina was surprised by an old boyfriend by the name of Ulay. When she opened her eyes, she had anticipated seeing another stranger and was caught off guard to see a man who she had not seen for over thirty years. The video of the meeting is available on youTube. After viewing the video, I knew I had to write about what I pictured their story had been and what I hoped it would be. The deeply emotional and beautiful scene was captivating and I hope I did it justice. In the end Marina and Ulay will probably never bridge the gap between friends and lovers again but that is their story.**

 **This is Bella and Edward's.**

 **Next chapter: January 1, 1971 in Forks, Washington — three years before the dangerous exhibition Bella mentioned and thirty-four years before this chapter.**


	2. Chapter 2

**January 1, 1971 — Forks, Washington**

My hands rested on the keys of the family piano, lingering instead of playing like I typically would. I drew my lower lip into my mouth, suckling the skin as I concentrated on the music pulsating through my head. Although my dream has always been to write the next great American novel, I could never quite escape the constant stream of music playing somewhere in the back of my head. I like to imagine my characters dancing to the classical music I often dreamed of and conversing over wine to the muted ballads that threatened to overtake my concentration in the worst possible moments. After watching my younger sister sneak beer from my parents' New Years party and receiving the pitying glances from their friends since I was alone, I decide to give into my desire to play out my frustrations.

Slamming my fingers onto the keys, I listened to the unpleasant cord with a surge of pleasure. Unlike in writing (for the most part), music frequently played by its own rules and what could be considered as unpleasant became pleasant in certain circumstances. I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath before the music overcame my sense and I began to play the music without completely meaning to. My parents often encouraged me to write the music down, giving me blank sheets of music that they hoped I would fill — I doubted they realized how little I wanted to pursue a music career. Their support was often frustrating. The thought made my fingers slip into another loud cord and I flinched when I heard a door from the floor above me slam.

I didn't play again. I just waited to see who I had woken up. Even though I was twenty-two, my mother's scolding could still make me feel like a four year-old boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The subtle shift of the piano bench told me that it wasn't my parents but rather my seventeen year-old sister.

"Edward," Alice whined, her voice thick with sleep. "It's so early and I drank too much last night. Why are you playing so loudly?"

"You know, you could've avoided this if you hadn't stolen half of the beer last night for you and your little friends." My eyes opened to sneak a look at the dark circles under her eyes. When was the last time she'd slept?

She waved a dismissive hand.

I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the long strands slip between my fingers. "Are you having those nightmares again?"

"They aren't nightmares!" she hissed, her eyes flashing with a temper I hadn't expected to see since she looked so exhausted. "Nightmares don't come true, Edward." I watched in mild horror as her lower lip began to tremble.

"Damn, I'm sorry Alice. I didn't mean it that way."

Tears were beginning to prick her eyes and I knew I had to do something to stop them. I wrapped one of my arms around her shoulders, pulling her tightly into my side. Her tears wet my shirt and I felt guilty that I had done this to her. I was the only person she talked to about these… premonitions she had. She explained that it was easy to pretend that she was daydreaming when really she was looking into the future. Most of the time, her insights were benign but at night, the worst visions came. Although none of those had come true yet, we both knew it was a matter of time.

"Tell me about your party last night," I offered.

"Jasper came — he is Rosalie's half brother," she said hesitantly as though she was revealing a big secret.

"Who is Jasper?"

Her lips twitched, a smile tempting to curve onto her lips. "A boy."

"Just a boy?" I raised my eyebrow at her.

"Yes but I want…"

"To be his girl?"

Her cheeks turned pink and she nodded, her short black hair bouncing with the jerky movements.

"Does he know?" It was a loaded question and she knew it. I watched her contemplate how to answer that question properly, turning over the best way to answer the question.

"Not yet."

I nodded, secretly pleased that her secret remained between the two of us. Although everyone claimed to be free spirited and open minded, I knew that that was not the case. I didn't want to know what would happen to her if anyone else found out she could see the future of those closest to her. I could picture her in some lab being tested on like a dog and then visited by the most powerful men in the country who could pay a pretty penny to have their future made known. I could see the fire in her eyes dimming as her life lost its purpose, as her family disappeared from memory, as her hopes for a brighter future were gone completely. The government would do things to her that no human truly deserved. She would be a commodity — a valuable one — and I refused to let that happen.

A sharp pain at the front of my forehead brought me back to the present. "Can I tell you a secret?" she asked, her hand falling away from my face.

"Sure," I said hesitantly.

"My dreams have been centered around you lately."

"Not again." My groan echoed through the empty room.

"No, no! You want to hear this."

"I'm quite sure I don't."

"It's about a girl," she taunted as I pushed away from the piano to pace.

One of the first parts of our deal when I agreed to listen to her visions was that she never spoke about my future to me. I wanted my life to be a surprise, not a result of some concoction she came up with. I was probably one of the few people who didn't want to know what the world held for me and perhaps that is why I was best suited to be Alice's protector.

"Just," she began, her eyebrows drawing together. "Just go to the art gallery today on Main Street, the one only visitors actually set foot in. You won't regret it, I promise!"

My lips pursed. "What? You make it sound like I have a choice."

"Well, either way you'll meet this girl but I like the outcome better if you meet her today."

"So… it's inevitable? I have no choice?"

"There is always a choice," she said exasperated. "But your choices will always lead you back to her."

"Can I at least have a name?" I whined, my lips pulled into a pout. I was breaking my one rule in the hopes that I could avoid meeting this girl at all costs. However, if it was as inevitable as Alice made it sound, I could at least have a leg up on the situation. What's the point of a psychic if they didn't tell you everything?

Her lips quirked into a smile, knowing my curiosity would most likely be my downfall. "Bella Swan."

_—_—_—_

I was pacing out in front of the art gallery. It assuredly looked weird to anyone on Main Street. I couldn't decide if I would follow Alice's counsel or go hide in my car once more in the hopes of avoiding the potential of meeting this mysterious woman from my future. I glanced into the windows of the gallery and noticed that the two women standing inside were staring at me. Shit, I probably looked like an idiot to them. Now I had to go inside and explain myself just so I don't destroy any chance at whatever was supposed to happen with one of the girls inside.

I allowed myself one more moment of hesitation before I tugged open the door, a bell dinging to announce my entrance even though I knew I had everyone's attention. Well, almost everyone's. A brunette appeared from the back room, her brown hair in a disarray, and her clothes slightly askew. I couldn't tear my eyes away from her, my mouth suddenly going dry. Vaguely I could hear the giggles of the two women standing at the counter in the gallery, their whispers filling the room. The brunette's face shifted from the floor to examine why the other two were so giddy. Her brown eyes, snapping with frustration, met mine and suddenly an easy grin filled her face. It took my breath away.

"Tanya, Victoria," she said, her voice soft and husky. "Why don't you make yourselves useful and start dusting the art pieces for our first customer?" Her eyes moved from mine to challenge the two behind the counter. Clearly, she didn't approve of her employees gawking at customers. Released from her gaze, I swallowed and watched the blond and the redhead scurry around as though she had lit a fire under their asses.

I glanced back to where the brunette had been standing and noticed she had disappeared, disappointment coursing through my veins. A throat cleared behind me and I whirled around to see her standing there, a tentative smile on her face. "So, what can I help you with?"

"Um… I don't know."

Her eyebrow quirked at my statement. "You don't know…"

"My sister sent me," I rushed out, sounding more like an idiot than I probably already looked like. "My name is Edward."

She laughed. "Well, Edward, my name's Bella and my momma owns this place so you could say I'm the best qualified to help you."

Bella. She was Bella. Of course she was. Alice had been so certain that she was everything I didn't know I was looking for and she was right. I had always imagined settling down with some accomplished young woman who was ready to be a mother, have two kids, and a white picket fence. Yet now, all I could see was the girl with brown eyes and brown hair and a spirit that seemed as wild as a mustang. From the moment I met her eyes, I knew I was in trouble and now I knew, I couldn't escape it. Damn Alice and her predictions — this is why I never asked her about my future and why I begged her to never tell.

"So, who are you looking to buy for?" she asked, her eyes flickering towards my lips and then meeting my eyes once more. "Mother, sister… wife, girlfriend?" I noted the way her eyes flickered towards my ring finger and the pleased smile she had on her face when she discovered I wasn't wearing a ring.

"I don't have… a girlfriend," I offered hesitantly. "I was just looking to buy a piece for myself."

She nodded as though she wasn't the least bit interested in my answer. "Alright." I shifted uneasily under her gaze until she finally met my eyes once more. "I think I have the perfect painting for you but it's not out on display yet." With a sly glance around, she turned and began walking towards the back room I had watched her come out from. She hooked her finger in my direction and I followed obediently like the lost puppy I was beginning to feel like in her presence.

We slipped passed the door and I glanced around, taking in the covered canvases that lined the walls just waiting for their chance to be on display. "Who paints these?"

She glanced over her shoulder at me, a happy smile on her face. "My mom and I do most of the paintings. Tanya and Victoria take the photographs. Occasionally sculptors bring in their work to sell."

"Which ones," I said, motioning around the large room, "are yours?"

Walking around, I heard a slight rip from something under my feet. I glanced down and noticed a sketchbook, my eyes widening at the image that had been torn by my clumsy movements. It was Bella and she was, well, nude. A sketchbook sat on her lap, covering the most intimate place on her body. I felt myself grow hard at the image, unable to control the natural reaction to a naked woman. "Um," I coughed, attempting to hide the gruffness my growing lust had caused. "I'm sorry." I stepped back so she could analyze the damage and flinched when I heard her laugh.

"Oh, it's alright. I'm pretty sure I can tape that together or redo it tomorrow." Her tone said that it was no big deal but her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment.

"I don't mean to invade your privacy," I whispered.

"If I meant for it to be private, I probably wouldn't have left it out in the open."

Now, it was my turn to blush. "Yeah, well, sorry anyway."

"Um… did you like it?" Her face betrayed the awkwardness that she felt.

My eyebrows drew together in contemplation. "It was very well done?"

Her head tilted to the side as she looked at me. "Are you asking me if it was well done?"

"No, of course not," I replied, flustered. "This couldn't be going any worse."

"I doubt that's true," she laughed.

We stood there, awkward but unable to look away from each other. I forgot what we had come in the back room to do. "So, Bella," I began before stopping the words that I was about to say.

"So, Edward." Her eyes encouraged me to finish what I was going to say.

"Would you be willing to, maybe, go grab ice cream with me later?" It sounded so juvenile when I finally said it and I shifted awkwardly at the position I had placed myself in.

She smiled, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Maybe."

I glanced up at her and a half smile came to my face. "Maybe."

_—_—_—_

By the time I left the art gallery, I had two paintings under my arm and a lighter wallet than when I walked in. Our conversation became a lot less awkward as we tossed out information about ourselves. Bella was twenty-one, an only child from an unhappy marriage, she got her artistic ability from her mom, and she wanted to become a renowned artist although she didn't want it to be because of her paintings. I opened the passenger door to the Impala, tossing the painting in before I leaned against the metal door. I sighed, feeling more drained than I had in years. I never felt awkward around girls, in fact, my prowess tended to be why I never had a girlfriend. But I finally found my weak link and it was Bella, the one girl I actually desperately wanted to impress.

I drove home slowly, not really feeling the need to speed through the streets like I had before. The curving roads and lack of cars was comforting. I could at least trust something to still be the same even though my world felt like it had been turned on its axis. I'd met her and I had no idea what that meant. I'd finally met her and suddenly nothing made sense.

Everyone says that when you meet your true love or soul mate, everything clicks into place as though the one thing you'd been missing suddenly made it all perfect. However, I found it to be quite the opposite. Everything made sense before I met Bella Swan. I had a plan and I knew what I wanted to do with my life. Yet, the moment I met her eyes, I knew that none of this mattered anymore. None of my previous plans made sense anymore. Everything that had been in place was now shattered.

I was devastated to realize that I would give up everything for her.

Alice was sitting on the front porch when I pulled up, her head in her hands. I could tell right away that our parents had found out about the beer. They would have given her a single beer if she had asked, since it was New Years and they weren't as strict as some parents, but her blatant disregard for their rules probably pushed them over the edge. I turned my car off and took a deep before disembarking from the car. The moment my car door slammed, Alice bolted from the front steps and threw herself into my arms.

I could feel her tears sliding down my neck as she clutched me tightly. I could feel her body tremble with tears and I suddenly realized that this was far more than a simple argument over beer. My stomach clenched. "Allie-cat, what happened?" I asked, which only seemed to make her sobs worse. Shit. Helplessly, I glanced at the windows of the house and noticed our mom, Esme, watching the exchange. I could see that she had been crying but over what, I wasn't sure.

Whatever had happened while I was gone had been something terrible and I wasn't here.

"Ed-d-dward-d-d," she stammered through her tears, her voice trembling over the 'd'.

"What's wrong?"

"They found my journal," she mumbled, her words broken.

"What journal?" I asked dumbly, my eyes narrowing slightly as I tried to recall why that sounded familiar. Suddenly it all clicked. "Fuck!"

"Yeah," she breathed, her tears subsiding and her breathing settling down.

"Did they say anything?"

"Dad wants to send me away to a doctor who he thinks can help. Mom thinks that I must be on drugs. Either way, they don't believe me. Why would they ever believe me?"

"They can't just send you away. I won't let them," I hissed.

"I don't think they'll let you have a say."

"Do you think I actually care?" I gently set her down on her feet and gently held her face in my hands. I scanned her eyes for any signs of increased distress and just saw muted terror, fear that she should never have to face on her own. My thumbs brushed away her remaining tears before I released her completely. "I bought you a painting," I said offhandedly, trying to distract her from the oncoming storm that I was going to cause.

"You went?" she replied excitedly, her eyes still dull from the fight with our parents. "What was she like?"

"She was… She was everything."

A smile graced her face. "I knew she would be."

Bumping her hip with mine, I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. "Come on, let's go see what we can do about those parents of ours."

"I wish you wouldn't."

"I refuse to let them send you away. I will convince them."

She stopped, which made me stumble slightly. "I love you, no matter what."

"I'm not going to make ice cream tonight, am I?"

"No, you aren't." She gave me a sad smile before allowing me to pull her into the house.

The first person I saw was our dad, Carlisle, who was downing a beer from his seat on the couch. I was surprised that he wasn't at the hospital this morning since he was one of the two doctors employed in this little town. I could see right away that this wasn't going to be a pleasant experience for anyone. From behind me, I heard Esme shuffle into the room and watched her sit down next to him. I guided Alice onto the couch opposite of theirs, noting that the journal was still out and open.

"I would like to know what on earth happened while I was away for a couple of hours," I demanded, my voice far more commanding than my parents ever expected. I watched Carlisle flinch, perhaps realizing that this was a silent 'fuck you' to him.

"Edward," Esme warned, her tone soft but her underlying message was swift. Tread carefully.

"No, mom, I demand to have answers."

"Your sister is clearly strung out on drugs and having hallucinations," Carlisle began, his voice fierce. "She needs medical help that we cannot provide."

"Oh, fuck you," I growled. "Did you even ask her about it or did you just assume that you knew everything? Did you care about her feelings?" Although my words didn't seem to affect Carlisle, I watched Esme flinch with each dagger thrown her way.

"Don't you dare raise your voice at me," he replied, his finger pointed in my face. "As long as you live in my house, under my roof, I control what is and isn't acceptable."

My lips curled in disgust. God complex, much? "Dad, I am begging you to look at Alice and tell me that you really think she is a drug addict." I watched his eyes flicker towards my trembling sister and I grew more frustrated. "No, really look at her. You took us in when we had no one else. You have raised us and loved us. Do you think that we would ever do anything to break that trust you have in us?"

I could see that he was struggling with his emotions, struggling to maintain his anger. "Edward," he whispered and when I met his eyes, I could see that they were filled with tears.

"Alice has been suffering from nightmares for years and her dreams fixate on horrific things with very detailed imagery, so I told her to write it down. It helps ease her fears," I stated, my voice calm once more. "What makes me angry is the fact that you didn't talk to me about it — you didn't bother to ask me. You just assumed that her realistic renditions of events and her fears about the nightmares leaking into her waking life were associated with drugs. That upsets me beyond imagining."

I could hear Esme crying but I couldn't look at her, at least not yet. I was focused on Carlisle, the man who held all of the power and didn't realize it yet. With a word he could ruin this family and destroy our relationship. I would never forgive him if he sent Alice away.

He moved his gaze away from mine. "Alice, I am so sorry," he whispered brokenly before breaking down. "So sorry." He held his arms out for her and I watched with a small smile as he pulled her into his arms. They held each other as they cried, so close to losing everything.

What would have happened if I was gone to school when this happened? Would I have come back to discover that Alice had been sent away? Sometimes I wondered if it was a blessing or a burden to know the future and the possibilities that were inevitable. In some ways, I wish I knew the answers about what would have happened. In other ways, I was grateful that I would never have to know. From what Alice had told me, the amount of possibilities and outcomes were disturbing. It gave her headaches. She definitely handled it a lot better than I could.

Eventually the tears subsided and I tried hard not to show how grateful I was that it was over. Maybe, I could make it to ice cream. Maybe, I wouldn't have to abandon Bella. I had no way to call her or contact her. I felt guilty for even attempting to make a plan to see her tonight without getting her number. I was an idiot and she was going to hate me.

This just seemed to go from bad to worse.

Esme held her hand out to me from across the divide. "Edward," she whispered. "Come here."

I joined them on the couch and the moment that her head came to rest on my shoulder, I knew. No ice cream tonight. "What book should we read tonight?" Carlisle asked to Alice, his voice was filled with guilt and I knew that my words had hit harder than I could ever imagine.

My heart ached because I desperately wanted to be in two places at once. I knew I needed to be with Alice because leaving her alone with them would bring up the opportunity for more questions. But I wanted so badly to be across town on Main Street with a beautiful brown-eyed girl that I knew would hate me tomorrow when I didn't show up. My priority had always been Alice and my family. Now, I could feel those changing and I hated it. I never had to doubt my priorities — I never had to question anything at all. I just wanted everything all at once but even Alice knew it wasn't going to be that easy.

Why did she tell me to go today when she knew this was going to happen? Suddenly it hit me and I silently groaned. What did Alice have up her sleeve?

_—_—_—_

I arrived at the art gallery right after it opened. No one was out on the floor so I just stood awkwardly by the door, hoping that Bella would appear out of the back room like she had yesterday. My hand raked through my hair, tugging on the wayward strands already. I shifted anxiously from foot to foot like a fifteen year-old kid taking a girl to his first prom. I bet she back there having a laugh at my expense, I thought irritably.

Finally, after what felt like forever but was actually five minutes, a woman appeared from the room. She was a brunette like Bella, her hair cut into a bob, and her pale skin showed the signs of age. This had to be Bella's mother. I analyzed her comments about her mother, hoping to pull a name from it but I came up with nothing. Damn. Clearing my throat, I watched in surprise as the woman jumped out of her skin and I realized she probably didn't hear the bell.

"Sorry, ma'am. I was just wondering if Bella was in today."

She turned and peered at me over the glasses that rested on the end of her nose. I shifted under her intense stare. "You must be the young man who left my daughter waiting all night."

"I can explain that," I said, my cheeks becoming warm at the accusation in her tone.

"I sure hope so but I'm afraid coming here won't be much help. Today's her day off."

"Oh."

"If you have a message for her though, I can pass it on."

"Um, alright, yeah. Just tell her that my little sister got into some trouble yesterday when I got home and I couldn't leave her when she needed me. Also, tell her I'll be back by tomorrow to see if she'd be willing to give me a second chance."

A soft smile crossed her mom's face. "I can tell her that. Do you want to write a number down that she can call after I pass on your message?"

"Of course, why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you two are too caught up in your own heads to think of practical things."

Feeling thoroughly chastised, I walked over to the counter and grabbed a piece of paper to scribble my family's number down. I met her eyes once more and I gave a slight nod in acknowledgement before scurrying out the door, my cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. After I made it to my car, I leaned up against the side and rubbed my palms against my face roughly. This wasn't exactly how I planned my meeting with her mother would happen.

Now, all I could do was hope she would call me or at the very least be at the gallery tomorrow.

_—_—_—_

A loud bang on the bathroom door let me know that I had been in there for too long. I took one last glance at my reflection, uncertain that I would ever be completely happy with how I looked. I wasn't typically critical of my appearance but today was going to be important — today was going to be the start of a wonderful adventure and I wanted to look my best. My hair was in a constant disarray and no matter how long I tried to tame it into a presentable hairdo. Alice always told me it was hopeless, perhaps it was time I trusted the psychic.

Things have calmed down around the house since the blowup that happened yesterday. Everyone seemed to be treading carefully around me as if a single misstep would cause another outburst. The shouting match was worse for us because I hardly ever raised my voice and my love for my family only furthered my resolve never to hurt any of them. However, Carlisle had gone too far yesterday and I knew that no amount of sweet talking would make the situation go away. We would have been stuck in limbo, a bitter silence that would only make everything worse. I felt guilty that I had to yell but my first priority was Alice and her happiness.

Brushing passed Alice, I noticed that the light in her eyes was no longer as dim as it had been yesterday. Clearly, she had no nightmares last night. That was a comforting thought and a first in a very long time. I watched her silently as she shut the door before trotting to my bedroom. In the distance I heard the phone ring but I ignored it, figuring that it was probably for Esme and I had to hurry if I wanted to make it to the gallery by the time it opened. As I did up my pants, I listened to Esme chattering with whomever was on the phone and I felt a pang of disappointment when I realized that it wasn't Bella. I hope she at least got my message.

After I was completely dressed, I made my way downstairs to see Esme stirring her coffee while resting against the counter. I glanced over to see her watching me with a bemused expression. "I just got off the phone," she began and I hummed with feigned interest. "It was a girl named Bella, said you left a painting at the art gallery. She asked that you come and pick it up as soon as possible."

Bella's name made my heart skip a beat but my brow furrowed at the mention of the painting. I had brought home the two paintings that I purchased and I know with an intense certainty that I did not buy another one. The sensation of pleasure shot through me at the prospect of her coming up with an inane excuse to see me once more.

"Really? Huh. I guess I'll need to head over and see about the mixup."

"Yes, I suppose you will. However, I was surprised to hear about your sudden interest in art."

My cheeks warmed. "It's a… recent development."

"Clearly."

"Well, I'm just going to go," I said, taking several hesitant steps backwards without breaking eye contact with Esme. Eventually I ran out of the house in an attempt to escape her intense gaze, fearing she would realize how much I was starting to care about this girl. I could hardly bear having her stare at me in a manner that stripped me bare and I didn't particularly look forward to the questions I knew were coming sooner or later. I tossed open the door to my Impala and slid inside, feeling an intense amount of relief at no longer being under the scrutiny of Esme or Alice. Luckily Carlisle didn't know about Bella yet, or I would never hear the end of this.

I drive above the speed limit through the empty roads, fully aware that the two cops in town were at the diner instead of pulling over speeding cars. Part of the appeal of such a small town was that it was hard to actually get into trouble because everyone knew everyone. Except I had never met Bella Swan before and it was the first time I met someone in this small town that I hadn't known since I was a kid. Perhaps, that was part of her appeal.

I parked along the sidewalk in front of the art gallery — a first since I tended to park down the road a short distance. Before I was embarrassed for Bella to see me but since she called this morning, I figured she was expecting me and I didn't want to keep her waiting.

As the bell rang to signal my entry, I watched the two girls Tanya and Victoria look up from their work. I really needed to figure out which was which. The blond glanced over her shoulder towards the back room before returning her gaze to mine, raising an eyebrow in silent challenge. Apparently Bella was back there and they weren't going to tell her I was here. Damn. With a sigh, I shuffled towards the back room and slipped passed the closed door.

A quick glance around alerted me to Bella's presence as she leaned over to examine a specific picture. "Hello," I whispered, a smile spreading across my face.

She whirled around, her hand pressed to her heart. "You scared me!"

"I'm sorry."

"No, you aren't."

"You're right. I'm not."

"I didn't expect you to get here so soon."

"I'm sorry — I can wait outside if you want."

"No," she stated, her eyes flickering towards the door before slowly sauntering up to me. "I think you owe me an explanation before you go disappearing again."

"I suppose you are right."

"We both know I am. If you want to buy me ice cream, I expect the entire story behind why you abandoned me two days ago."

The tips of my ears grew hot. "My sister has always had these intense nightmares and over the past few weeks, they started leaking into her daydreams. In an attempt to ease the distress, I told her to start writing them down. Our parents found them while I was here at the gallery and assumed that she was having hallucinations from taking drugs, which she would never do. They immediately jumped to the worst case scenario and told her that she was going to go away to get better in a place where they would understand her. I couldn't let that happen and Alice needed me so I had to stay home to make sure they didn't do anything rash. I couldn't let them send her away." I was rambling, I could tell, and I shot her an apologetic look once I closed my mouth.

Her eyes softened and she gave me a gentle smile. "It's okay, I understand. I really wasn't that mad about it. After all, I did only say maybe."

"Yeah but we both knew what maybe meant."

"Your family is important to you," she whispered, her hand coming up to rest against my cheek. "I can't begrudge you that."

"Thanks," I whispered, leaning into her touch almost immediately.

"So, about that ice cream."

"Yeah, about that," I teased before I remembered something I had wanted to ask her. "My mom said you had a painting for me."

Her cheeks turned red. "I do."

"Can I see it?"

She wrung her hands before finally turning away from me. I watched her shuffle through the canvases before selecting the one she was looking for. "Now, it's not finished so don't judge just yet," she said before handing me the painting.

I instantly became hard, my pants tightening uncomfortably. It was the nude sketch I had accidentally stepped on the first time I came in here. The image was practically identically with the exception of the colors she had added to the painting. If this was the unfinished painting, I was a little nervous to see what my physical response would be to the actual painting.

"Oh, um… I don't know quite where I would put that."

"Hopefully somewhere special," she whispered, closing the distance once more.

"I'm pretty sure my mom wouldn't appreciate a nude painting on her walls."

"Maybe you'll have to convince her," she breathed, looking at me from underneath her eyelashes.

I sucked in a deep breath, my heart pounding slightly. "Maybe I will." My hand came up to brush her cheek and a warmth spread through my body at the touch. I completely forgot what we had been planning to do. All I wanted to do was stay like this forever but a door opened to the back room and we lurched away from each other. I shoved the painting behind me, my cheeks red with embarrassment.

The redhead glanced between the two of us. "Tanya was wondering if she could take a smoke break since you haven't left yet."

"Sure," she said with a wave of her hand. The door closed behind the girl I now knew was Victoria. Clearing her throat, she shifted awkwardly before drawing her lip between her teeth. "I'm glad you like the painting."

"I'm pretty sure I would like anything you created," I blurted out before letting out a nervous laugh.

She laughed, although hers was far more carefree than mine was. "I'll hold you to that. Now, since we can't get ice cream yet, want to help me sort through these paintings and photographs? It's time we rotate the images."

"I'd be glad to," I responded, silently adding that there was no place I would rather be. Without a second thought, I knelt next to her and watched as she began to select what she felt was worthy of presentation. It didn't take me long to realize her expectations and pick out my favorites from the previously covered images.

Later, I realized that we had spent hours in that back room, not talking. I couldn't remember the last time I felt so at peace and I was silently grateful that it had been with my beautiful brown-eyed girl.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I decided to allow the idea of Alice being psychic before turning into a vampire flourish in this story. She isn't currently the same excited girl we typically read about and that largely has to do with her visions and her self-medicating to ease the pain.**

 **Edward and Alice's story is pretty convoluted and I will eventually reveal it in later chapters so you will just have to be patient with me.** **I feel the need to add that this is a HEA story, even though much like life, it doesn't happen right away. Next chapter will be in 2005 and my plan is to rotate between the present and past for this story.**

 **If you have an questions, feel free to PM me! Thank you so much for the reviews — they mean the world to me.**


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